Thursday, June 28, 2012

WORS #4: The Battle of CamRock


The weekend certainly did not start out on the right foot.  Circumstances beyond our control delayed our departure from Chicago until early afternoon.  This of course meant that we got caught up in traffic getting out of Chicago.  It took almost an hour to get to the airport.  I was also running behind on my preparations for my trip.  Saturday drive to Wisconsin, Sunday drive back, Monday board plane for Iceland.  It was going to be a busy week.  Morleigh was kind enough to drive most of the way allowing me to work on a poster for the conference I was attending.  I made good progress as we headed north.  I did not finish the poster, but I pushed it as far as I needed to before we arrived in Camrock Park #3. 
We got to the park relatively late, at 4PM.  So I got dressed quickly, unloaded the bikes, and went off to try and find Mike and Jackie who were doing the “learning to race” clinic.  I didn’t find them.  I went down to the bottom and traced the gravel path as far back uphill as I could go.  I did not find a group, I did not find them.  When the path crossed the bridge over the river, I dropped onto the course, and road the single track back out.  I passed a wave of clinic goers, and kept on toward the finish thinking they might have been ahead of the kids.  I looped back up a redesigned last climb (switchbacks instead of a straight shot), back up the starting hill, and headed to the car.  They were nowhere to be found.  I did find Morleigh relaxing in the car, resting and reading.  She was okay, but had not seen anyone.  Just as I was getting ready to ride the rest of course Mike texted me.  They were at the finish.  So I rode back down, and caught up with them again.
Mike showed off his mighty steed, a 15 year old Bontraiger mountain bike that he won as a prize for finishing half a hard behind the leader in a race.  It had sat unused in his closet for 15 years.  This was the first time it had seen any dirt at all.  We started up the course together.  The citizen course diverged from the sport course early on, just after the parking lot.  Mike and Jackie stayed on their course, and I followed the signs for the sport.  When I caught up with Mike, Jackie was long gone, and he was taking it very easy.  His bike was twitchy, and hard to control, but he did okay on the climbs and the straights.  We went at his pace, which was slow.  That was perfectly fine, as it was late in the day, short window to recover, and my primary goal was to learn the course.  Mike went down hard once, getting washed out as he tried to pass someone.  His wheel didn’t bite into the edge, so he bit it at a high speed.  I was worried he was hurt because he wasn’t moving.  I doubled back, and he was smiling up at me.  Could I give him a hand?  He didn’t have leverage to pop out of his cleats.  I grabbed his foot and twisted.  He was up and we were going again.
We finished the rest of the lap without major incident.  We went back to the car, and I rode his bike for the first time.  It was REALLY twitchy.  I could not fathom how different his bike was with its narrow tires and strange geometry.  We decided that we would swap out tires from my 26” to his 26”.  Tires from this millennium onto a bike from the previous one.  I could hardly fathom when he told me that we couldn’t just switch wheels.  His brake pads and rims were ceramic.  It was state of the art braking technology before brakes were disked.
We packed up our things, took the tent out of the truck to hold our spot, and then left to Madison.  We checked into the hotel rinsed off, and then headed across the street to the Olive Garden for a nice dinner.  It was late, we were hungry, and the garden was the closest pasta.
When we made it back to the hotel, Mike and I hung out in the parking lot working on his bike.  We took off the tires and swapped them out.  We made short work of it, and the handling on his bike.  We returned to our rooms, and crawled into bed.

The next morning we were up early for breakfast, and out the door before the two Lacross teams and one basketball team cloggled up the single waffle maker.  What kind of crap is that? A single waffle maker?  Even the Best Western in Waupaca had two waffle makers.  Better pick up the pace Madison.  You will lose your status as the crwn jewel fo the state .

After breakfast we headed outside, loaded up the cars, and drove to Cambridge with Mike following close behind in the car bequithed to him by a friendly neighbor.  We made it with out incident, ignoring the potential omen created by the dozen or so vultures circling the dump west of Madison.  When we arrived our spots right alongside the course, reserved by our tent, were still open.  We pulled in, set up the tent, and started to prepare.  We set up the tent, and got Mike ready to ride.  The juniors were coming by soon, so I also got out my camera to snap some photos.  I wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of shooting all of my photos from the tent, but I didn’t want to wander too far before I was more than 90% ready for my own race.  I knew that I wanted to be out in the woods for when my friends raced, looking for the perfect shot.
Mike and Jackie headed down to the start, and Morleigh and I headed south across the parking lot to find the spot where they would come out of the first section of single track.  The course doubled back on itself, and it was the only spot on the course where a person could see the riders twice on the same lap with minimal movement.  I took my camera into the woods and set up the tripod behind a tree.  The “woodchuck” section of trail was pretty white birch trees framed against a beautiful blue sky.  The vision of the shot was better than the execution.  I was hoping the curve I was on would lead to slower speeds, but I miss judged and riders were flying by.  I had a lot of premature and “post-mature” shutter clicks.  Also?  I missed all of my friends.  After the first lap I stepped out of the woods and switched lens because I wanted to guarantee that I got some good shots of my friends.
Jackie came by as expected, the third woman, she was smiling and having a good time.  Mike on the other hand did not come by as expected.  We were standing there watching the guys come by, and Mike did not emerge from the woods.  We knew that he was not planning on riding fast or hard, but when the ambulance sirens started to approach, and Mike still did not appear, I became nervous.
Riders were still streaming by, so it was not yet hopeless, but each as each minute passed I became a little more anxious.  Then across the parking lot I saw the blue Half-Acre kit steaming uphill at full speed.  A few minutes later a smiling Mike came out of the Woodchucker single track, and we got a couple great pics.  After the race he said he fell down more today than he did yesterday, but still had a great time. 
Then it was my turn.  I returned to the tent to get ready, and ran into my Mom.  I told her where Morleigh was stationed, and headed off to the starting line to find my Dad (she left him near the finish).  I found him, and gave him a run-down of the race course (i.e., where to stand), and then headed down the hill for the start. 
When it was time for my wave to go off, I got my first WORS call-up, It wasn’t in the front line because the older guys got their call-ups first, but it was something.  The whistle blew, and we surged up hill.  I did not get into good enough position to get the hole shot, and instead settled in to the number three spot as we headed up the second hill.  The rider in front of me was a C39-, and I knew I would need to get past him at some point, but I was trying to remember that it was a three lap race, and I had plenty of time.  I was content then to sit in third place as we looped past the empty tent, and around the parking lot.  When we came through the Woodchuck I intentionally backed off his wheel.  I knew Morleigh was standing at the end waiting to take pictures of me, and it would not have done well by my photographer to come screaming out the trail eating someone else’s dust.  So I backed off in the single track, smiled pretty, and then hammered hard trying to make a move on the short section of double track before the single track.  I didn’t make it.  I ended up following the C39- down through the rock garden where a year ago I crashed and instantly bruised my leg.  We were moving slow enough that I was able to see the exact rock I fell on (it matches the scar on my leg). 
We were moving slower than I would have liked, but there were no opportunities to pass, so I was content to catch my breath and recover as we switch-backed down the hill.  When we got to the bottom, and looped around to the next section of double track I burned a match and pulled around him.  I caught back up with the leader of my wave on the climb back up to where Morleigh was standing.  We had already caught the tail end of the wave in front of us.
The rest of the race went smoothly.  The rest of the first lap, I stayed behind the 50-54 rider I had been following from the beginning.  The two of us worked our way through the pack together, climbing past the slower riders from earlier waves.  When we hit the second hill at the start of the second lap we switched positions.  I said that I would pull for a while, but instead I pulled away.  The second lap went pretty smooth, but I got pinched in some key places behind slower riders.  I remember almost crashing as I passed Morleigh the second time on the second lap, as the rider in front did not power up a hill leaving me trying to slow down on a steep roller.  I remember being caught behind a slower rider during the very tight S-turns through a small dry creek bed, and having to put on the brakes more than necessary.  But after that I made a move to pass him before hitting “Raseberry fields forever” and found an open space where I was really able to ride my own pace for a while.  I ran into some more riders before the awesomely fun “rip and ride” section of single track, and was not able to pass them until we hit the crushed gravel trail leading back to the start line.  I reeved it up to 24mph and made it past another half dozen riders who were cruising.  The climb back to the starting plateau was much gentler this year, with seven or eight switchbacks replacing a single double track straight up.  The third lap I continued to ride strong, finding more and more stretches where I could ride at my own pace. 
On the third lap I continued to climb up in the field, and felt very good about my race as I started to get into riders who started three and four waves ahead of me.  The lap went smoothly and I was able to finish the race strong. 
I pedaled around the starting area until I could find my Dad, then we both headed back up to the tent.  I sat down to cool down, and then took a ready wipe shower.  I changed and my parents and I headed back down to the podium for awards.  My friend Jackie was sitting there, so we talked about our races (she finished 3rd), and she introduced me to the friends that she came to the race with.  In a very “small world moment” one of her friends was also the C39- that I passed on the first lap.  I think he was a little disappointed because he didn’t see me pass, and finished the race thinking he was in first place. 
I waited for my call, posed on the podium, and then we all returned to the tent.  I was pleasantly surprised to find a crowd had gathered.  The girlfriend of one of my Chicago CX friends, and the wife and son of another had joined Morleigh in the shade of the Sprockets tent.   They made great company as we waited for their significant others to pass by for hand-ups and cheers. 
With two laps left in the race we had another unexpected visitor.  An exhausted Mumford, as he was riding past our tent slammed on the brakes and veered under into the shade.  He asked me if I had any water or any food, and he was lucky that Morleigh is so good at preparing for races because we had plenty of both.  I filled up his water bottle at least twice, and found in the bottom of our bag of treats some organic animal crackers.  He ate and drank, saying that “He didn’t come to WI to torture himself.”  With a little water and a few calories, we returned Mumford back to the wild.  He ended up finishing thirty eighth. 
On the ride home, Morleigh was cracking up as she described the mental picture she had of Mumford standing in our tent grabbing handfuls of animal crackers and shoving then partially into his mouth leaving some legs and heads jutting out as he crushed their bodies with his teeth.  She also said that it was by far the most fun she had ever had at a race. 

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